


一個人的年夜飯。 ( family dinner for one )

by bubbleteahime



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Chinese New Year, Humans, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9481871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleteahime/pseuds/bubbleteahime
Summary: Everyone gathers at the last night of the lunar year.But it isn't the first Chinese New Years Eve Taiwan is spending alone.





	

Everyone gathers at the last night of the lunar year. You spend it with family. You sit at a table packed with family members. Faces old with a long time, faces young with a short time. There are wrinkles and baby teeth. There are hands thin with age, hands sturdy with work, hands chubby with childhood. Joy lines their faces, wrinkles or no. You sit. You eat. You squabble and laugh. You are content because everyone is here and anyone who isn’t is here in spirit and with others who are closest people to family they know. Everyone is somewhere they belong.

Everyone gathers at the last night of the lunar year.

 

-

 

It is not the first time Taiwan is spending Chinese New Year’s Eve alone. In fact, she did not always have Chinese New Year. (That had been a time long, long ago.) She has been living alone for quite a few decades already. She can spend one more night alone.

One more night.

The last night of the lunar year.

She does not stay in Taipei, even though there are still people who will stay and eat with their families. But many people return south, to their homes and ancestral homes, to small apartments in smaller urban areas and tile traditional houses in rural villages. Taipei is a lot more quieter without so many people, too quiet for Taiwan to stay. For many, the south is their original hearth. No matter what ─ much less or much more than the big earthquake that just occurred ─ there will always be people who will return for this one night.

She travels south, too. Flocking like a migratory bird, she returns with the flood of cars on the street. The notion “ _home_ ” inspires a motion in an ocean of people, an annual tidal wave receding back to the origins.  What is it about “ _home_ ” that calls to them? Is “ _family_ ” the moon that coaxes them home? Sometimes, Taiwan wonders about “ _home_ ” and “ _family_ ,” these thoughts timidly wandering out from the forestry of her mind. She just knows they are very important to her people and to her.

She leaves her bags in her old house in Tainan. It is small and belonged to a family she once knew well when she was a girl. It was a family that no longer existed. She prays for them, amongst all the family she lost, amongst all the people she lost. Incense still burns at their familial shrine, smoke rising to kiss the roof as her shadow leaves a flicker in the dim light.

She is the empress of her empty streets as she walks around listlessly, catching glimpses of what “ _family_ ” is from windows. Her people are happy, so she is happy for them. She will always be happy for them and only them. She sees faces she has known for decades with faces she has known for months only. It’s a stark and warming contrast whenever she sees a grandparent hold a grandchild. She sees the lines and scars on their hands. She knows they never want them to experience the worst of their past. She feels the hope on their withered hands, the hope in their withered hands. The baby puts a hand on the old man’s nose and tugs with a shrill squeal. The family laughs. She looks away.

It is difficult to admit, but part of her can never be happy whenever she sees a happy family. No, she does not begrudge those families for their great fortune. She is simply burdened with the simple melancholy of yearning for something she does not have and cannot have.

_You_ can _have it, if you want,_ a voice hisses from a dark crevice in her mind.

_「我們兩岸一家親。」_

_You are the only one responsible for your loneliness_.

Taiwan suppresses a shudder. She fills the crevice with a glimmering gem like Nüwa filled in the heavens. The jewel glows with memories and vows to keep those memories as memories forever. She will not go back. Her mind turns away from the dark crevice, but she recognizes some truth in those words. She knows China would receive her if she decides to show up. She knows Shanghai already considers her a sister. She knows Hong Kong would not mind being related to her. She still has memories of Chinese New Year spent around a big table, scrumptious dishes and sumptuous delicacies overflowing, crammed with the people she thought was family before she knew any better. What a noisy, joyous occasion it was, all of it in the rosy glow of her memories.

The nostalgia fades as quickly as it descends. It leaves nothing but the reality: a barren house devoid of life and warmth, and she is standing alone in that house.

Her breath comes short as if a mad ox has rammed into her chest. The weight stays there. The silhouette of her face, with its subtle angles discordant of traditionally Han Chinese features, is sharp against the dim glow from another house hosting a happy family, but her eyes are misty. Her knees greet the pavement, then Taiwan sits on the newly cleaned front steps of the house. Why should it matter if her skirt gets dirty when she has no one to show it off to? She has no grandparents to please or younger cousins to teach.

She suffocates slowly. Memories are such treacherous things. Has she ever known a true family? She hesitates to answer and knows that is an answer in itself if she cannot say “yes” immediately. There are times she has felt the way she feels when she stands outside the windows, watching New Year’s Eve family dinners happening, watching everyone gather somewhere they belong. There are times she would rather run barefoot in the mountains than sit and study the ancient wisdom of Chinese scholars. There are times she knows there is an East Asian conference, but not because she has received an invitation. There are times she is within and without, all at once.

Taiwan rests her head in her hands. She is shivering from the cold, but her hands tremble with weight. There is a weight on her shoulders and another on her chest, crushing her fluttering heart. Her mind is filled with thick fog, and thoughts do not break through easily.

She does not hear the door creaking open.

An old woman pops her head out, spotting a well-dressed young woman huddled up on her doorsteps. She frowns to herself, lines stacking on her forehead, before she shuffles out. Her bones creak as she squats down slowly, letting out a few groans of grimace. She’ll have you know she was the most energetic dancer in senior high school, but her body is just not as young anymore. She looks at the young woman beside her.

『Child, what are you doing out here alone? 』

Taiwan looks up from her hands, startled and vulnerable. She had forgotten this is someone else’s house and her presence there would be bothersome.

『 I’m really sorry, 』she gets up hastily, a faint blush of embarrassment painting her cheeks.  『 I was just...walking...and I got tired so I just wanted to sit down a bit- 』

『 Don’t you have somewhere else to be? 』 _Like home_ , the old woman has clear eyes. No malice, no coldness. There is only the clarity of simplicity.

Her voice is stifled by everything she wants to say, everything she feels. Taiwan does not know how to explain the estrangement of her heart. She has always been the younger, the more naive. The one who is more likely to open her heart to others. Yet she doubts any of them knows the true extent of her isolation.

The wind shakes her thoughts from her mind. An old tune sweeps in:

_亞細亞的孤兒  在風中哭泣...  
_ **_( Orphan of Asia  crying in the wind... )_ **

In a few words, she tells what is closest to the truth, a thin smile on her face,

『 I'm an orphan. 』

The old woman looks shocked for a moment, then determination takes charge of her gaze. (Taiwan recognizes the same determination on so many other faces, too.) Smiling kindly still, the old woman asks,

『 Have you had dinner yet? 』

『 Well...no, but I- 』

『 Come inside, 』the old woman stands up slowly, her laughter lines crinkling into the shape of fish tails, 『 It’s too cold to stay out. 』

Taiwan bows her head. She really does not want to intrude on something as personal and important as a family dinner on Chinese New Year’s Eve, and, maybe, she does not want to be somewhere she feels even more out of place.

『 Ma, you’ve been out here for too long. It’s not good- 』Taiwan prepares to leave at the sound of what she presumes to be the old woman’s daughter-in-law. She takes a step back only to find a firm hand on the back of her shoulder.

『 Prepare another seat. We still have some food left, don’t we? She hasn’t had dinner yet. 』

The presumed daughter-in-law seems to understand immediately and flashes Taiwan a warm smile as the two humans usher the uncertain personification into their door.『 Of course. I believe we have enough even though my children are somewhat gluttons. 』

『 Like their father! 』The old woman quips, giving Taiwan a wink.

Her lips tremble as the chill of the winter night is warded off. Taiwan stands at the doorway, blinking at the bright lighting. Her feet do not move a step as she realizes how full of life this family is. Mouthwatering promises of homemade food form a veil over her head. She can hear children’s laughter against the noise of a television program a grandfather would watch. Her heart lurches against her chest, and she feels her eyes burn red.

『 Grandma, who is this? 』She can see bright eyes peeking at her behind the old woman. Fear is a frantic bird circling around her heart. She is tempted to take a step back. There is nothing she can love more than her people, yet sometimes she does not know whether they even want her or not.

『 Family. 』

Tears spell out her gratitude as old arms enveloped her in an embrace. She can be Mei for tonight. She can be alright for tonight. Because tonight is the last night of the lunar year. Everyone gathers on the last night of the lunar year. She will spend it with family.

  


**Author's Note:**

> This was written A YEAR AGO for Chinese New Years Eve. (so it is probably very shitty.)
> 
> In Taiwan, it is custom to spend this night with your family. We call it 圍爐, which literally translates to “encircle the hearth.” It means to be with your family for dinner. This dinner may be the most important meal on the lunar calendar. 
> 
> The earthquake mentioned happened on February 6, 2016 in southern Taiwan, at a magnitude of 6.4. It is the deadliest earthquake that has happened in Taiwan since 921 Earthquake in 1999. 
> 
> When the 『』are used, it is implying that they are speaking in Taiwanese Hokkien.
> 
> Anyways, happy lunar new year! 新年快樂~


End file.
